A Tale Of Two Chimneys

by E.H. Sale

Listening to that splendid speech at the dinner last November by our principal guest brought back a lot of memories, especially when he referred to that vade-mecum of early days – G.D. Abraham’s British Mountain Climbs -calling it the Little Red Book. Of course a lot of the memories were about splendid days and climbs successfully completed, but perhaps those which stand out most clearly are the times when one failed to get to the top.

On a clear day in May 1925 two climbers roped up at the foot of the Doctor’s Chimney on Gable Crag. The Little Red Book called it ‘difficult’. So what were we up to when we had hardly attempted anything but ‘easies’ before? Two years earlier A.M. Binnie and I, with two Cambridge friends, went to the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel for a week at the end of the May term. We got to the top of Scafell Pike via Esk Hause, had an easy day around Langdale, then rode motor¬bikes round to Patterdale and walked up Helvellyn. Greatly daring, three of us had actually followed the crest of Striding Edge. Of course to us rock-climbing was something only indulged in by eccentrics, although we did know a college don who spent his holidays in the Alps where he climbed with a rope!

Later that afternoon we were sitting outside the hotel with well-earned pots of beer when who should appear but the very don himself, CM. Sleeman, A.C.. Apparently a short trip to Switzerland had fallen through because of a friend’s illness, and after the Alps his next love was for the Lakes. Over a beer he was soon asking about our doings, and presently said, “Have you been to Scafell yet?” We told him we had climbed the Pike, but we did not think Scafell was very easy from Langdale. “Come with me tomorrow,” he said, and explained that there was a little bit of climbing to be done, but of course he had a rope. So next day he led us by Three Tarns and the head of Eskdale towards Mickledore. Suddenly a gap opened on the left, the rope was uncoiled and one by one we were shown the way up Broad Stand. The summit of Scafell, tea at Brotherilkeld, and a long walk back over Hard Knott and Wrynose rounded off a wonderful day.

This was the beginning and before the week was out he had led us up Cust’s Gully, Pillar Rock by the Easy Way, and the Arrowhead Arete from above the Arrowhead. For me this climb, on rocks warmed by the sun, and with the realisation that I was up there high above the gullies and not frightened was the moment of truth – I was going to do this again whenever I could. However I did not get another opportunity for about two years. Then Binnie and I found ourselves at Seascale with a week’s holiday available. So on a very wet evening we ferried ourselves and our luggage to Burnthwaite.

The next day was dull but dry. Armed with the Little Red Book we set off for Pillar and spent the afternoon working through the ‘easy’ routes on the east side – Slab and Notch, Arete, Pendlebury’s Traverse, the two Pisgah Chimneys. These all proved well within our scope and Binnie led throughout, probably as the more experienced after a holiday in Switzerland the summer before.

Then it rained, real Lakeland rain, and all the next day we could do little but watch more and more becks appear as silver threads down the 200 feet or so of Lingmell which was visible below the cloud. The day after that was wet as well, but it eased off to drizzle in the afternoon so we spent an hour or so clambering around the Boulder in Mosedale. Not for the last time we got lost trying to take a short-cut back to Burnthwaite, and found ourselves in a maze of stone walls which got higher, looser and more difficult the nearer we got to our destination.

Next morning the clouds were still low, but it was dry. After studying the L.R.B., Binnie suggested that we set off for Scafell and try to get up the Pinnacle by way of Deep Ghyll and the Professor’s Chimney. Catalogued as ‘easy’ that seemed fine if we could find the start. So after breakfast we trudged up Brown Tongue getting nearer and nearer to the clouds. However Hollow Stones was just clear at ground level and though we could see nothing of the crags away to our right, there was a fan of scree down a grassy slope which might possibly be Lord’s Rake. It was, and soon we were roping up at the foot of the cave pitch in Deep Ghyll.

Binnie led up that patch, and I suppose the second as well, though I cannot remember anything about it. Soon we were following a rock ledge along the foot of the left wall, which seemed easier than the scree in the gully. But in a short distance our ledge was broken by a cleft running up the wall from the bed of the gully. Splendid we thought, here we are at the Professor’s Chimney. By now we were enveloped in really thick cloud and we could not see more than a few yards. Binnie tried to step round the corner into the chimney, but it was by no means easy, and after a few minutes he stepped back on to the ledge. “Shall I have a go?” I asked, and perhaps because of an extra inch or so of reach I managed to get round the corner on to some holds in the cleft and started to climb up. After a few feet it got shallower and soon petered out on to a slab. The slab could hardly be described as smooth, but on the other hand it was singularly lacking in anything that could be termed a good hold. So I more or less crawled up it and soon a dark shadow ahead suggested the end of the slab. Hurrying to find somewhere more secure I was stopped by a shout from below, “No more rope!” but I just managed to reach an almost level spot at the foot of a wall and sit down. No belay, but what I had climbed was not really very steep and Binnie soon joined me and we peered around into the mist. Behind us was a steep and apparently holdless wall, with no visible scratches. To our right however, just within the limit of visibility, a little spike of rock stood up, a few inches from the foot of the wall, making a perfect belay. Traversing across to it was easy, but at the spike the slab ended, beyond and below there was only mist. Up the wall was a clear line of scratched holds; this was a proper climbing route and momentarily we forgot that it bore no relation to the description of Professor’s Chimney.

It could hardly be described as easy either. I struggled, Binnie gave me a push up on the first holds, I still struggled and he gave me a shoulder. Slowly I progressed several feet, arms outstretched, leg muscles shaking, until I could see the top of the pitch, a good flat ledge I thought, but about two feet out of reach. Minutes passed, arms ached, and suddenly I realised I could not hold on much longer and was on the point of shouting to Binnie when one set of fingers just refused and slid off its hold. But nothing more happened, my feet stayed put, I did not fall backwards, and I found I could stand without using my arms to take the weight, a very important lesson for a beginner. So after a rest things looked different, and panting hard I got up and on to the ledge and sat down.

For several minutes we had heard sounds of boots on scree coming across Deep Ghyll, and now the clouds lifted and we could see three climbers part-way up a climb on the other side of the Ghyll. Perhaps they might help. “Can you tell us where we are? Is this the Professor’s Chimney route?” shouted Binnie. They looked across and up. “No,” one of them called back, “you are on O.G. Jones’ route from Deep Ghyll.” Then as an afterthought he added, “The pitch you are on is the hardest of the climb.” Consternation! Binnie pulled the L.R.B. out of the sack and presently read out, “O.G. Jones’ route from Deep Ghyll – exceptionally severe; 100 feet of rope needed.” After a pause he asked, “Is there a belay up there?” I could not see one, but just around the corner the line of scratches continued up the wall. Perhaps the holds were not quite so far apart as on the bit I had just come up, but now the mist had cleared. The next section was no longer above the ledge where Binnie stood, but the wall plunged down sheer past the belay spike to the bed of Deep Ghyll itself, or so it seemed. This was too much -1 shouted that there was no belay and started back down. Somehow I managed and soon after we were back in Deep Ghyll where a short scramble brought us to the real Professor’s Chimney. A few minutes later we emerged to find the climbers from the West Wall sitting on the crest of the Pinnacle. As we joined them they asked why we had turned back when we were up the hardest bit. We made our excuses, ate our sandwiches and happily found our way back via Broad Stand to Wasdale.

For me, next morning, the feeling of achievement had grown to one of disdain for climbs labelled easy. What about trying something much harder? So I persuaded Binnie to let me have a go at Doctor’s Chimney. Perhaps a better idea than I realised – there was never any danger of falling out or down. I got myself into the narrow cleft and stayed there for 20 minutes I should think without making any appreciable progress. Binnie rightly decided we were not good enough, and quietly led the way round to and up the Bottle-nosed Pinnacle Ridge.